Hope's Light

Prologue & Chapter 1

by Erisian

Book 6

Part One

Prologue - Bargain

“Are you certain this is the right path?”

Two figures crept down a narrow underground passageway, shoes slipping across shallow puddles lining the curved concrete floor. Their coats, one jet black and the other a lighter brown, flickered in the weak light offered only by a white crystal held forward by the taller and much darker-skinned man.

“They didn’t provide a map, Callas. I told you the same instructions they told me, and your memory is as perfect as mine. If you think we’ve misapplied the sequence, you should’ve spoken up.”

“Hmm.”

Charles is now at Jane's Winsome Girls' School for Wayward Boys. He has volunteered to become one of Jane's girls to help Jane not only clear his name but to help Francis. He has a lot to learn about being a girl in a short amount of time, as Toby Camber is arriving at the school in a weeks time. Something else occurs that Charles wasn't expecting, he learns something else about himself while being Charlotte.

Maeryn Lamonte Copyright ©️ 2024
Warning: This story includes mention of a suicide. Proceed with cation.

“So anyway, you know that New Year’s party my work always throws? Well, I asked Colin if he wanted to come, and he said no.”

“Sounds suspicious.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I mean free food, free booze, a chance to let your hair down and boogie. I mean what’s not to like?”

“Absolutely. So what did you do?”

Author’s note - After finishing the updated story of Laurence I was finding it very difficult to lay the story down. I knew that if I continued, then it would get dark and I knew that I couldn’t avoid that. As readers you may appreciate my dilemma or say it would have been better to leave it as it was?

This is written as a separate short story so readers can avoid the ending that appears here. I needed to write it, but you don’t need to read it although I hope some of you do.

I was overwhelmed with sensations all over my body.

There was a pull on my scalp where my wife's hands were pulling my braids. My lips felt buttery and smooth and velvety from the lipstick. I could feel my wife's soft lips on mine, her tongue in my mouth, kissing me deeply, smearing my lipstick.

Most of all, my body was contracting pleasantly, an after effect of the waves of pleasure that had washed all over me, centered in my groin.

I had leaked - that's right, leaked cum, which was pooled beneath us, on the floor.

"Wow, honey", she smirked at me, "You really are a woman"

The next morning, I woke up earlier than my wife. I had freshened up, put my hair in a messy high ponytail and then made us a pot of coffee. I sat on the couch, sipping from a cup. Waiting.

She eventually woke up and sauntered over to where I was sitting, "Last night was something magical. I didn't know we could do that"

"Mm-mmm, yes, it was great", I said, giving her a side ways glance. She was in her night wear, with bed head, hair tousled this way and that. She gave a yawn.

I was woken the next day, by the most excruciating erection I ever had. Or tried to have. I was still locked in the damn cage.

I looked around the room for the key. I searched the flat, but I couldn't find the key.

Finally, I went to wake my wife, to find her woken up, due to all the noise I may or may not have made. She smiled and it looked like she knew exactly what was going on with me.

She came to me and gave me a slow kiss, which made me curl my toes, "Frustrated much?"

"How does it feel to be a woman?"

It was a beautiful morning and we were sitting in the balcony, taking in the view with a cup of coffee.

She had been unusually quite. She's not a chatterbox, but she usually has something to say. If nothing else, she will drop a teasing remark or two.

So to bring her out of the flunk, I asked her, "How does it feel to be a woman?"

She seemed to register that I was talking and looked at me, "Hmmm, what was that?"

"Honey, how does it feel to be a woman? Or rather what's the difference between me and you?"

Next day was our weekly off.

After breakfast, we were getting ready to go shopping for weekly groceries.

Just as we got into the mall, she said, "Maybe you should have your ears pierced here at the shop, since we are here anyways"

I replied, "What's on your mind?"

"Like I said, I wouldn't mind if you wore earrings and had long hair. Come on, let's get it done already"

She grabbed me by my arm and led me to the piercing shop in the mall. The artist approached my wife, thinking she was the one who wanted the piercing.

"What does being transgender mean for you?". That was how we began our way through all of this.

I responded, "It means that I have a feminine side to me which feels more authentic than the male side I present to the world. It means there is a constant expectation from myself to express my feminity".

The next morning, I woke to find the bedroom door still locked from the inside. My wife usually woke up around the same time and we did the chores around the house. But not today, after the revelation last night.

I see that Mindful 1 is sometimes posted as a book on BC but I'm not certain if I ever posted Mindful 2 as book here on BC. In case I have not. I have posted 'Mindful 2 here on BC. Readers are warned that the story ends as a suicide but not necessarily an unhappy one.

If you reached the end, the final end of the final rope, and could take a mulligan, would you?

Have you ever asked yourself the following question? What causes a place to become haunted? Or to become infested with demons? That is the million dollar question that is often debated among theologians and paranormal scholars alike. I'm not here to answer that question. I'm here to tell you a story of a building that is haunted. Haunted by the lost soul of a wayward teenage girl who tragically took her own life in a fit of religious fever and my personal encounter with her. But first a brief history lesson.

The whole enchilada...plus a bonus epilogue.

Chapter 01-The Murder

This is a story I HAD to write last November. I kept spilling out of me. But it is too depressing to post in grey dull winter time, so I stalled its release until now.

Please do not read this if you are feeling down or depressed or are easily be pulled emotionally down!

If you are thinking about suicide, please get help. There are a lot of people out there willing to help whatever is the reason.
Suicide is never a solution!

Luv,
Louise

It was with quick and uncaring steps that Devin walked into his Journalism class. He had taken the class mainly because most of the other electives were either full, or just looked plain uninteresting. Art? Devin didn’t particularly enjoy drawing and often found it tedious. Creative Writing? He steered clear of that one. He was sure his classmates wouldn’t want to read his gender bending fiction, which seemed to be the only thing he was even partially capable of writing. Culinary? He hated cooking under pressure.

It seems strange, even if it’s true, that the ends of our adult lives shall precede their beginnings.

The tragedy of it was it didn’t matter what Nixxi wanted to be, for she already was a girl and she had been since just after conception.

Light And Shadow (Part 4 of 8)

by Erisian

Chapter 16 - Goddess

The eyes of a hundred kneeling demons were upon me. The fight had chewed up a lot of terrain and we’d moved within field-goal distance of the crowd before it was done. As much as I wanted to just fall over and lie there in the dirt that was not an option. Instead I slowly forced myself up. Thighs, calves, and even pinky toes protested, sending agony up every available nerve to decry the idiocy of such an action.

I couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not here. Not now. By the rules of the duel I couldn’t be immediately challenged by anyone else but that didn’t matter.

The soul-sucking bastards needed to fear me. Or else they would never accept my commands.

“Where am I?”
The question wasn’t to anyone, as no one was in the room with me, but there I was, standing in front of hospital bed. A teenage girl laid silent.
In fact, everything was silent.
No machines beeping
No intercom calls
No whirring from the breathing apparatus that covered her face.

The next to volunteer was a guy dressed in a long flannel shirt with a crumpled pack of cigarettes in the front pocket. His hands were gnarled for such a young looking guy. He grumbled his name was “Joshua”

Three teen age girls exact revenge on the older brother of one of them, who is obnoxious to them, with dire results